


Shattered Hearts Need Mending aka Bunker Love Fest 2k15

by casey2y5, JiniZ, livinginthequestion, meangreenlimabean, MittenWraith, WinJennster



Series: Bunker Love 2k15 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blessing, Bunker Fic, Collaboration, F/F, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey2y5/pseuds/casey2y5, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiniZ/pseuds/JiniZ, https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinginthequestion/pseuds/livinginthequestion, https://archiveofourown.org/users/meangreenlimabean/pseuds/meangreenlimabean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster/pseuds/WinJennster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester just can't resist touching pretty, pink, sparkly things. But that can be a dangerous thing - especially when said pink sparkly thing resides in the bunker's storage room.<br/>Nothing seems to be wrong at first, but the evening definitely takes a turn for the weird once the bunker's inhabitants retire to their separate rooms. As they all fall asleep and dream, quiet truths and buried feelings make themselves known through a series of vivid dreams.<br/>When morning comes, it's what they choose to do with those dreams that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pink Sparkly Things -  WinJennster

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it!

Someday, Dean was going to learn not to touch sparkly, shiny things. Especially sparkly, shiny things hiding in boxes in their storage slash dungeon.

At least, that’s what he told himself, as he watched the glittering pink cloud over his head dissipate. He wondered if the others had heard the boom, the explosion, when he opened the pink enameled, jewel encrusted heart.

He wasn’t really hurt; however, that didn’t mean he felt like getting off the floor, where he’d landed flat on his back. The sound of his brother’s hooves pounding down the hall told him help was on the way, and Dean wondered if maybe he had been a little stunned, if his unwillingness to move was any indication.

“Dean!” Sam slammed the door open so hard it hit the opposite wall, rattling the objects on the metal shelves lining the room.

Dean tilted his head slightly, grinning dopily at his brother. “M’fine, Sammy.”

Sam skidded to a stop, falling to his knees next to Dean. “I’ll be the judge of that. What the hell did you do?” he asked, sweeping his hands over Dean. The Winchesters were well practiced at checking for injuries.

“What makes you think I did anything?” Dean groused.

“It’s you.” Not finding any injuries, Sam helped Dean sit up. “What did you touch?”

“Nothing!”

“This,” Kevin said, kicking the heart across the floor. Dean hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

“Something pretty and pink. You really do have a type, Dean-o.” Gabe appeared in the doorway, Cas hot on his heels.

Cas shoved past Gabe and knelt near Dean. The former angel cocked his head. “You are unharmed?”

“Yeah, I’m fine! Jeez, all we’re missing is Charlie, then we can light a fire and sing Kumbaya!”

“I don’t like to sing. Dancing yes, singing no.” Charlie grinned from the doorway. “He does like pink stuff, doesn’t he?” she giggled, elbowing Gabe.

“Hey! Aren’t you the one that told me pink doesn’t have to be gender specific? I do think that was you, Miss Bradbury.”

“Aw, don’t get sore, Dean-o.”

“Quit calling me that, Gabe, ya friggin’ elf!”

“Ok, enough, let’s figure out what this thing does,” Sam said.

Dean pulled himself to his feet with Cas’s help, then walked over to the shelves. He pulled a file box down and handed it to Sam. “It was in here.”

Sam checked the number on the box and turned to the ledger. He turned pages for a bit, finding the entry he needed. His face clouded.

“What?”

“They don’t know what it does. It’s Faberge, and rumored to have been the property of Grand Duchess Tatiana of the Romanov family, but they have no clue what it does. Wonderful.”

“I don’t feel any different,” Dean mused. “I mean, it made noise and knocked me down, but maybe that’s all it is. Like a pretty practical joke or something. I dunno.”

“Maybe you’ll wake up a woman,” Charlie leered. “Then I can finally hit on you.”

“Same,” Gabe added. “Not that there’s anything stopping me now!”

“Hey!”

“You like it,” Gabe shot back.

“Alright, c’mon, no fighting. Let’s get dinner going, and we’ll watch you and see what happens. Ok? Ok.” Sam obviously considered the matter closed, storming out of the storage room.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Cas asked, concerned.

“I’m fine. C’mon, you can chop up veggies for salad, ok?”

Cas smiled slightly, pleased to be needed.

Dean made spaghetti and Cas and Sam prepared a salad. The evening went on as normal, and finally, finding absolutely nothing wrong with his brother, Sam decided they’d deal with the heart in the morning.

The six of them said their goodnights and headed off to their respective rooms.

****  
  



	2. Kevin - Casey2y5

Kevin shut the door, taking in a ragged breath. It was nothing like becoming a prophet- no sudden flash of lightning, no certainty about his next move, just warmth spreading up the base of his spine and the sort of dizziness and stomach fluttering he typically tried to ignore. That he had quite successfully ignored since moving in with the Winchesters, at least until tonight. The heart Dean had shattered was certainly having some sort of effect.

 

He spared a glance for the pajamas he had laid out that morning. The world was spinning faster and he knew it was best to get horizontal before whatever this was took over entirely. He untied his boots, barely getting them off before he collapsed on top of the covers. Darkness engulfed him until he swore he was floating.

 

When he pried his eyes open he was back in Garth’s houseboat. There was no way that had been just a nightmare and the sense of unease that came from waking up where he hadn’t fallen asleep combined with his knowledge of the supernatural made him want to roll over and bury his face in his pillow. The pillow that smelled like Garth. The world swam into focus finally. Garth’s room. He was in Garth’s bed. The smell of tempeh bacon pervading through the boat served as enough inspiration for him to at least get out of bed and enjoy this version of reality.

 

Garth was standing in front of the stove, wearing an old t-shirt and smiley face boxers. Kevin smiled. Of course things felt off- he was on a houseboat in the middle of nowhere hoping beyond hope the demons and angels who wanted him dead wouldn’t find him here. That was enough for anything to feel off. There was Garth though, and his books and research mixed in with Kevin’s own notes and papers and bits of tablet. He stretched again, body still stiff, before going and wrapping his arms around Garth’s waist, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

 

“Morning. Sleep okay?” Garth asked, not turning away from the food.

 

“Yeah. Woke up without you.”

“Food though. Found that tempeh bacon you like last time I was in town. Figured since you finished the tablet yesterday-” Garth trailed off like he hadn’t even bothered to finish think the rest of that sentence through.

Kevin blinked, surprised that wasn’t the first thing he’d remembered, and was glad his face was still hidden against Garth’s skin. There were still other tablets, but he was free for now. If he was lucky the others would stay lost.

“Yeah. I was going to look things over again, just to be sure. Then maybe get some of this cleaned up.” Kevin waved a hand on the massive amounts of clutter that they had acquired.

“Food first. We have the bacon and eggs and toast, if you want.”

“Thanks for cooking.”

“Not like you would eat if I didn’t,” Garth laughed.

Kevin watched him scrape the food onto the plates. As soon as Garth put the pan down Kevin tugged him around for a kiss. Garth’s hands found their way to his back, one splayed across the width of his shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of his neck.  Kevin found himself pressed against the counter, Garth a solid wall of heat against him. The thought of breakfast was feeing his mind as soon as he worked his hands underneath Garth’s shirt, warm skin more tempting than food. Garth ducked to press a kiss to his collarbone before pulling away with a sigh.

“You didn’t eat at all yesterday.”

Garth grabbed one of the strips of bacon, bringing it to Kevin’s mouth. He bit down automatically, marinade flooding his mouth. There was a rasp of stubble that Garth caught his finger on as he pulled away.

“Come on. I’m not feeding you eggs,” Garth said.

Kevin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a joke that would probably ruin both of their appetites. Instead he grabbed his plate and plopped it down on top of some old notes.

“We have got to get a filing system or something.” Kevin voiced the complaint at least once a week but neither of them had managed to do something about it yet.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” Garth said, putting down his fork.

“Sure.”

“Well, you’re done with the tablet and God knows where the rest is. I have a freakin’ houseboat that I haven’t used properly and I was thinking it was time that I did.”

“I guess I’ll start looking for a place tomorrow,” Kevin said, forcing himself to take another bite.

“If you want. I was hoping you might come with me.”

Kevin swallowed, just barely managing to avoid choking. The sun had shifted some, light spilling across the table. Garth was looking at him, eyes wide, worrying his fork between his fingers.

“I- yes. Why not?”

Garth beamed, digging back into breakfast with newfound enthusiasm. Kevin stretched his legs out, wrapping his feet around Garth’s ankle, tugging to get his attention. Excitement was bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

“When did you want to leave?” Kevin asked.

“We have stuff to prepare. You have to get the tablet to the Winchesters and this thing probably needs some repairs to make it seaworthy but in a week or two, if we’re lucky.”

"Right. I- you're sure you want to do this right?" Kevin asked.

"Why wouldn't l? I know its basically our world's version of moving into together and I get if you aren't ready for that," Garth said.

"No. I definitely am. I want to. Just nerves I guess. Don’t know why. Its not like we haven't been doing just that for ages now.”

They lapsed into silence, chewing through breakfast. Kevin watched Garth, realizing this was his next six months at least. There wouldn't be anything else. No distractions, no monsters, no prophet stuff. He was finally free enough  to live his life without worrying about what everyone else needed from him. He reached his hand across the table and intertwined their fingers.

Garth's palm was warm against his and the contact was soothing. The notes under his plate were apparently comparing shtriga and wendigo, part of Garth’s ongoing project, and tablet dust covered most of the table. It was a weird kind of domestic bliss.

"l'm excited. Let's make good use of this thing. Open ocean and all that"

"You're just babbling now.Go get ready. I'll clean up," Garth said.

"You cooked. I should at least clean up," Kevin pointed out.

"Nope wanted to make you breakfast. That means the whole deal. Go shower and leave me some hot water."

"You could always just join me,"Kevin called over his shoulder.

Garth didn't join him, but did kiss him against a wall when they passed each other after. lt didn't take Kevin long to look over the work he didn't remember doing on the tablet. lt was accurate enough for him to call the Winchesters in. He cobbled his notes together into related piles, paperclipped haphazardly together. Garth watched him work over the book he was pretending to read. As soon as the last paperclip was on Garth shut the book putting it decisively on the table.

"Let’s get this place cleaned up before Sam and Dean get here. I can't have them thinking I’m keeping their prophet in filth."

"You could just admit you hate the clutter just as much as I do," Kevin said, kissing the top of Garth’s head.

 

This was what he imagined his life to be before, even if he never quite pictured his version of this life to be with an ex- dentist turned hunter of the stuff that haunted his nightmares. He went to the storage closet, ready to pull out cleaning supplies before dizziness overtook him.

"Kevin?" he heard Garth's voice echo.

Garth faded out even as the usual oppressive silence of the bunker in the early morning filtered in. The pain of losing it again shot through him when Garth disappeared the first time he thought it couldn't get any worse, but it had felt real and had wanted it - a normal life with the guise of an adventure more than he had allowed himself to want anything in two years. Every other thing he had had disappeared one by one since he had come into this world and it wasn't real.

He groped blindly for the light, clicking it on, hoping it would be different with the light on.

 

It wasn't. He thought of the tablet sitting in the library, all the work he still needed to do. He knew what it was. The stupid heart figurine Dean had shattered. It had definitely been some sort of curse. He shot up, wondering if it had affected the others or if he had been alone in it.

****  
  



	3. Gabriel - JiniZ

_Stupid muttonhead_ , he thought.

Gabriel would have thought that after all these years, Dean would’ve learned not to touch the shinys. Apparently not. While he didn’t seem to be any worse for wear, Gabriel hoped that whatever that thing was would have something happen to Dean. Well, not _happen_ , happen. Nothing too out there. Just maybe a little kissing spell or something – one that involved Castiel - just to put him in his place. It was a pink sparkly heart, after all.

He yawned, cursing internally. Ever since the angels fell, the archangel only had a minimal amount of his mojo left and occasionally needed to sleep, which he hated. It was absolutely pointless. He could be doing a myriad of other things instead of shutting off his vessel for a few hours.  Stupid vessel.

As he turned to find his room, Gabriel felt a little wobbly. _Well, that’s new_ , he thought. He shook it off and continued on his way. The feeling hit him again as he put his hand on the doorknob. Figuring it to just be a side effect of being partly human, Gabriel shucked off his clothes when he got inside and flopped on the bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, Gabriel’s thoughts turned once again to Sam. What was he doing, pining for Sam? _I’m a fucking archangel,_ he thought. _Badass bible mofo with the mojo_. That was slowly fading away. He’d never be able to impress Sam without his mojo at full power.

He sighed, lamenting the fact that Sam would never see him as a romantic interest. No sooner had Gabriel closed his eyes when he was suddenly awake again.

Naked.

In the ocean.

With Sam three feet away, laughing his ass off.

_The hell?_

“You okay,” Sam asked him, trying to catch his breath.

Gabriel nodded a little, brows furrowed. He was just in his bed. Wasn’t he? He looked around to see who else may be in the water with them. They seemed to be mostly alone, only a few other scattered swimmers as far as he could see. He thought he saw Dean and Cas on the shore, stretched out on a towel, lazily touching each other. _Huh._

“You missing something?” Sam dangled a pair of swim trunks off his finger.

Well, that explained why he was naked. “Give me those back!” Gabriel lunged for them but Sam held them out of his reach. He jumped up for them, but given that Sam was easily eighteen feet taller than he was, Gabriel didn’t have a chance. “Sam!”

Sam twirled the trunks around his finger and chuckled again. “Oh, I don’t think so. You deserve to be naked after that stunt you pulled last night.” He paused at Gabriel’s confused look. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” And with that, Sam chucked the shorts as far out into the ocean as he could.

“Hey!” He was thisclose to snapping his fingers to get them back.

“And you’re NOT mojoing them back on. That was the deal.” Sam crossed his arms and stared at Gabe, smiling brightly.

“Deal?” Good lord. What in the world was going on? He’s pretty sure he would never make a naked bet with Sam. Well, he _would_ , but having Sam go along with it? No dice.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Are you still drunk?” He inched closer to Gabe.

“Not in the slightest.” He pointed out to sea. “Can I get my shorts back? Please?”

Another few inches towards Gabe and Sam’s smile turned predatory. “Nope. You love it. Taking chances. Getting caught in the act.”

Gabriel was frozen in his spot. What was Sam talking about? He was so close now, so inviting as he sunk into the water up to his neck in front of Gabriel and wrapped his hands around Gabe’s waist, kissing his belly.  Gabriel closed his eyes and took a sharp breath in, taking great pains to not put his hands on the younger Winchester. “What are you doing, Sam?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as unsteady as he felt.

Sam kissed Gabe’s belly again. “What do you think I’m doing, doofus? I’m trying to seduce you.” Sam dipped his tongue into Gabe’s belly button, making Gabe squirm a little.

“You sure about this, kiddo?” _Pleasesayyespleasesayyespleasesayyes_ , Gabe repeated over and over in his head. He tentatively put one hand on Sam’s shoulder, the other petting his wet hair.

One of Sam’s hands made its way to Gabriel’s ass and gave it a playful squeeze. “It’s not like it’s our first time. First time in the water maybe….”

Gabriel was pretty sure he misheard what Sam said. “I’m sorry, what?”

Sam pulled away and looked up at Gabe taking his face in his hands and examined Gabriel’s eyes. “You sure you’re okay? You didn’t hit your head did you? I know you’re not at full power, so I worry about you, babe.” And with that, Sam pressed up to kiss Gabriel full on the lips.

He was so surprised, that all Gabriel could do was back away as quickly as possible, pushing himself off on Sam’s shoulders. “Woah! Sam! I don’t think –“ He was cut short when he tripped over something on the sandy ocean floor and momentarily disappeared under the water.

Sam hauled a sputtering Gabriel up, concern flooding his face. “Okay, that’s it. We’re going in. Something’s going on with you. We’ll see if Dean and Cas can help figure it out.” He grabbed Gabriel’s hand and started to pull him towards the shore.

Gabriel tugged back. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You win. We can stay here. Just a little longer. I want to enjoy this while it lasts.”

Sam stopped trying to drag Gabriel forward, and cocked his head to the side. “You sure? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Gabriel sighed. “I’m sure, Sammitch.”

“Sammitch? That’s a new one.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Gabriel launched himself at Sam who caught him easily. Sam fell to his knees as Gabriel wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist, kissing him soundly. He couldn’t be sure, but Gabe thought he heard fireworks in the distance.

Just as the kiss was getting interesting, Gabriel sat bolt upright in his bed. _Of course not_ , he thought bitterly. _Sam’s never gonna be into me_. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and opened the drawer where he kept his whipped cream flavored vodka.

Taking a long pull on the bottle, Gabriel bemoaned just how pathetic he really was. An angel. A fucking _arch_ angel dreaming of a puny human. He slammed the bottle back on the nightstand harder than was strictly necessary, grabbed a pair of pants and headed to the door.

****  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Charlie - livinginthequestion

“G'night, you guys! No touching any more artifacts, okay??” Charlie yelled back down the hallway at the others as she slipped into her room. She could just hear Dean muttering something that sounded like, “shut up, Charlie” as she shut the door, chuckling. Seriously, it was like he was a noob at this supernatural stuff sometimes. He really should've known better than to just pick up any old thing he found in the dungeon.

She was still shaking her head as she moved toward her duffel, sitting on the end of the bed, when suddenly she felt a wave of dizziness pass over her. Light-headed, she grabbed for the nearest solid object, and dropped into the desk chair, gasping a little. _What the hell?_ Her vision started whiting out a little; she was just starting to think she ought try to get to the door, holler for help, when gradually it faded back in, her balance restored, she was feeling a little shaky but otherwise normal. Frowning, she felt her pulse; she pushed to her feet and peered into the mirror on the wall. Her heart was a little fast, she looked a little pale, not surprising under the circumstances. She drew a deep breath and stood up straight, checked her watch. Almost midnight, they'd been up for hours. Maybe she was just tired.

Moving slowly, Charlie changed into sleep pants and her favorite T-shirt – _have you tried turning it off and back on again?_ – and crawled under the covers, yawning. Yep, just tired. Her room was down at the end of the hall from the guys, which hopefully would mean peace and quiet. Not that anything would happen, they were all such wusses. They'd rather pine and sleep alone than ever in a million years say anything to each other. She snorted and chuckled again as her eyes drifted shut.

Almost right away she was startled out of a doze by a – weird noise? Not weird, unexpected. It was – She sat up, opening her eyes and then choking out a yell of surprise. She was apparently sleeping, not in her bed at the bunker but in a beautiful green field filled with flowers, birds singing overhead, a beautiful blue sky above – and a dog barking somewhere nearby. _Okay, that's not weird, it's just a dream, Bradbury. Get a grip_. Certainly the most vivid dream she'd ever had: she could feel the cool earth under her hands, smell the flowers, feel the light breeze, the whole nine.

Charlie got to her feet awkwardly, still feeling a little disoriented and thinking, _I wish I'd grabbed a robe_. She glanced down at herself – and saw not sleep pants and her tee, but a comfortable shirt of soft white cloth, a leather vest, pants that reminded her of riding jodhpurs and knee-high boots of dark brown leather. She also had a sort of mailbag type pouch made of some woven material slung around her shoulder. _Again, what the hell??_ The dog barked again, much nearer this time. She looked up quickly in the direction of the sound. Just as she spotted the dog, a small black terrier heading her way determinedly, she heard a voice calling, a very familiar-sounding voice:

“Toto! Toto, you damned idiot! What good are you if you won't come when you're called??” The dog glanced back, and then turned and trotted toward Charlie, woofing quietly and cocking its head at her in a friendly way. At least it looked friendly.

The voice came again: “Toto, dammit, where are you?” And as Charlie watched, Toto's owner appeared over the rise, looked down at Charlie and the dog, and stopped, hands on her hips, laughing. It was –

“Dorothy!  Frak me, it's you! Am I... I thought I was dreaming!” Charlie gaped at her friend, not sure whether to laugh or faint in astonishment. Dorothy laughed again and started down the hill toward Charlie.

“Well, I'll be damned. If it's not Red come to visit! No wonder Toto was all wound up.” Dorothy stopped in front of Charlie and clapped her on the shoulder, still smiling. “Good to see you.” A short pause, Charlie still struggling to catch up with events, and Dorothy smirked. “Nice to see you too, Dorothy. How have you been? Well, I'm just fine, but sort of lonesome. I'm real glad you're here.” She winked at Charlie, who finally broke out of her paralysis and gave an embarrassed laugh, shaking her head.

“Sorry, sorry, I'm just a little – I thought I was dreaming. I'd just gone to bed, I mean that's the last thing I remember, and all of a sudden I'm here with you.”

“Hmmm.” Dorothy frowned at Charlie speculatively. “Sounds like a spell or something. What happened right before you went to bed?”

Charlie thought for a moment. “Well, we all had supper – I was at the bunker where I met you, with Dean and Sam and some other friends, and Dean was poking around where he shouldn't, which you'd have to know him better to realize that is so him, and touched something he shouldn't've. It sort of exploded all over him. He wasn't hurt really, and we took turns giving him grief over it and then we ate dinner and everybody turned in. And I woke up here.”

Dorothy made another hmmm noise, and gestured ahead. The two women started walking further down the hill, in silence at first. Dorothy was strolling along looking down at the ground, hands clasped behind her back. Charlie looked around her – except for the fact that she was, y'know, in Oz, everything looked completely real and normal, not at all dreamlike.

Finally Dorothy cleared her throat.

“Definitely sounds like a spell of some kind, which probably means you're here for a reason.”

Charlie gulped. “You mean, for real? For good?”

Dorothy gave her a smile that was almost shy. “Would that be so bad?” She winked again, and chuckled at Charlie's blush.

“N-no, in fact it would be completely aces. But I can't figure out why, if it's a spell, it would send me – ” Charlie gestured at the beautiful country around them, “ – _here_?”

Dorothy's head cocked to one side; she nudged Charlie slightly and they turned toward a path coming down from the trees. “I'm not sure, but I was thinking about what you said the first time you came here with me, that whole quest thing. And I was remembering what it was like to, to have those adventures and do all that stuff, even the dangerous stuff, with somebody who loves it as much as I do. Maybe, y'know, maybe it has something to do with how you feel when you're here, why you came here in the first place.”

Charlie stopped in her tracks and looked up at Dorothy, her mouth open a little. Dorothy looked back at her, amused. After a second she linked her arm through Charlie's and pulled her gently along the path.

“C'mon, my little house is up here in the woods a little way. Come on up and see it, and I'll see if I can scare up something to eat. We can talk some more, figure this out. What d'ya say, Red? Up for the adventure?” She winked.

Charlie winked back, grinning, and they pass under the canopy of trees, Toto bounding ahead of them.

****  
  


The sun was just going down and Dorothy had lit a couple of lamps when Charlie finally let out a sigh and looked over at her friend, a serious expression on her face.

“Thanks for supper, that was, um, interesting.”

Dorothy laughed. “Yeah, I'm not much for cooking, I just eat what's handy. Sorry.”

Charlie nods. “I'm the same way myself. No biggie.” She sighed again.

Dorothy sat down across the table. “What's up, Red? You come to any conclusions?”

Charlie bobbed her head from side to side. “Weeellll, I'm not the expert on these things, I was wishing I could talk to Sam. He's a walking talking library about this stuff.”

“Sam's the tall one, right? With the puppy eyes?”

Charlie couldn't help laughing. “Yeah, that's our Sam. He's really a sweet guy. Dean is too, he just doesn't like people to know that.”

Dorothy snorted. “Yeah, I got that. Well, what would Sam the Librarian say about this?”

“He'd be working the lore books trying to find any mention of a way to reverse it, I guess.” Charlie frowned down at her hands. “But I'm not so sure that's possible.”

Dorothy made a humming noise. “Well, I don't know the answer to that. I guess it depends on what you want. I mean, that's kind of the way things work around here. You can't really get anything done, make things work, unless you know who you are and what you want.” She looked across at Charlie. “You got any idea about that?” When Charlie looked up at her, Dorothy was smiling softly.

 

Charlie smiled back. “I guess – if I had to stay...” She trailed off, thinking. “I thought, when you first said that, there was a part of me that was saying, well, that's not so bad, Oz is exciting and interesting and worth exploring, and there's lots of work to do here. And I was also thinking...” She trailed off again, blushing a little and glancing up at Dorothy and then away.

 

Dorothy smirked, reached across the table and put her hand over one of Charlie's. “Thinking what, Red?”

Charlie held her breath for a minute and then smiled back, turning her hand to clasp Dorothy's. “I was thinking, hey, this is just the kind of person I'd like to hang out and have adventures with. The kind of person I want to be with.” She smiled a little shyly, but she didn't look away.

Dorothy's other hand came across the table to Charlie's. She laughed a little, squeezing Charlie's hands tightly and nodding. “Well then, my dear Red, I think you've got your answer.”

Charlie laughed too, shutting her eyes for a second and shaking her head at her own boneheadedness. And she thought the guys were hopelessly dumb... And then she felt a sensation like the room whirling around her, the chair she sat on, the table, the floor itself falling away.

She jerked awake, her eyes flying open to see the room in the bunker, the old quilt covering her, her boots on the floor and her duffel still sitting on the foot of the bed. She gasped a couple of times and pushed herself to a sitting position.

_Ooookay, Charlie, we're back_. She sat there breathing for a minute, trying to calm down and figure this out. She was thinking furiously, remembering the things Dorothy said to her about figuring out why she was there, about how she felt when she was in Oz with Dorothy, why she wanted to go there in the first place. And she realized: as soon as she did that, as soon as she could see clearly what she wanted – _boom_!

She smiled, nodding slowly. She slipped out of bed and cautiously opened her door – she could hear morning noises down the hall, voices, dishes clinking, the sizzling sound of breakfast cooking. She slipped her arms into her hoodie and headed for the bathroom, feeling pretty frisky. I know what I've been doing wrong now, she thought as she splashed water on her face. _And I'm gonna tell those emotionally-stunted, anally-retentive boys what **they're** doing wrong too. Ha!_ She flipped herself a high-five in the mirror and headed out the door, humming under her breath.

**  
**


	5. Castiel - MittenWraith

Alone his room, Cas turned to his dresser to pull out some pajamas. The low level of worry he'd suppressed through dinner rose a little higher now that he couldn't keep Dean under constant observation. Dean hadn't shown any obvious adverse reactions after his run-in with the bejeweled heart, despite Cas keeping an extra-close eye on his friend all evening.

Every object in the bunker's storage rooms had magical properties. Even more importantly, none of the items' powers were on the lowly level of even the most elaborate practical jokes, despite Dean's insistence to the contrary. Cas remembered the whoopee cushion Dean once tricked him with years before, and despite the memory now bringing a smile to his face, he was sure the Men of Letters wouldn't bother to preserve and catalog such an artifact.

He shook his head as if to clear away his jumbled thoughts, and reached out to open the drawer. His hand made it half way to the dresser when a strange wave of vertigo washed over him, sending him lurching backward. It looked and felt as if the whole room took a deep breath. Or maybe his eyeballs did, he thought in a moment of hysteria. The walls were sucked inward like the sides of a tent in a stiff wind, while the floor heaved him up off his weary feet and dumped him on his back. Luckily the floor seemed to have a sense of direction and at least half a heart, and he'd landed mostly on his bed, one foot dangling over the edge.

"That probably should be alarming," he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. "I should probably be alarmed."

Since he'd lost his wings, he'd had quite a few grumbling disputes with gravity, but he'd never experienced such a concise and crushing defeat.  He couldn't compete with forces of nature anymore, and succumbed to the sagging weariness dragging at his bones.

One single blink later , Cas found himself comfortably snuggled into a nest of warm blankets. His toes curled against the fleecy fabric. He remembered falling onto the bed before removing his shoes, let alone getting changed into proper sleep attire, and groaned as he decided he needed to get up and change just to go back to sleep properly. Maybe just this once it wouldn't be so bad to sleep in his clothes. He ducked his forehead further under the covers and pushed his cheek into the soft pile of pillows beneath his head.

Then it hit him. He wriggled his toes again. No shoes. No socks, even. Maybe he didn't pull the blanket over himself after all. Maybe Sam came to check on him and tucked him in. Or Charlie. She'd been so kind to him lately, being there for him in any way she could while he adjusted to life as a human. He didn't even want to consider it might have been Dean. He was supposed to be making sure Dean was okay tonight, not the other way around.

He groaned again, this time out of guilt as concern for Dean overrode every concern he had for himself. Whatever dizzy spell he'd suffered was insignificant compared to the mysterious effect the heart was sure to exert over Dean. He probably just needed to drink more water, or eat more vegetables, or something like that. He'd make sure to ask Sam about it so he wouldn't pass out again.

Now that he had a mission, Operation Ensure Dean's Safety, Cas felt energized. He flung the blankets aside and pushed himself to the edge of the bed. And nearly passed right back out.

Not only was he completely naked, he wasn't even in his own room. He felt a screeching yelp rise up the back of his throat and squelched it out of existence by clapping both hands over his mouth. Eyes wide with shock, he stared around the room. Dean's room. He was in Dean's bed. Naked.

He shot out of bed and frantically searched for his clothes. He spotted his fuzzy blue bathrobe slung carelessly across the chair in the corner, and raced to cover himself before Dean found him there. As he grabbed it, a pair of boxers and one of Dean's old Led Zeppelin shirts fell to the floor at his feet. Rather than try to hide them, and afraid Dean would notice something amiss if he left them, in a fit of confused panic, he just put them on. Under the chair, as if they belonged there, were the happy little bumblebee slippers Gabe had given him for Christmas. Their little smiling faces seemed to be laughing at him just then, and he took a perverse little pleasure at jamming his feet into the backs of their gleeful little heads while tying his robe a bit tighter than necessary.

He'd had a few dreams that involved waking up in Dean's bed, but all of them also involved Dean's explicit and enthusiastic consent to him falling asleep there in the first place. Not that it would ever happen in the waking world. He knew Dean's room was his sanctuary, and much as he wished otherwise, as he adjusted to humanity he accepted that Dean would never see him as more than his best friend.

As soon as he felt as dressed as he could get under the circumstances, he crept to the door and pressed his ear against it. It wouldn't be much better to be caught sneaking out of Dean's room in his bathrobe in the middle of the night than to be caught sleeping in his bed. Naked. Okay, it wouldn't be quite as bad, but still. Bad.

The hall was quiet, and he risked opening the door a crack to peek outside. Clear in both directions. He slid into the hall and turned to pull the door shut, twisting the knob so it wouldn't click as it closed, when his cover was blown.

"Mornin', little bro." Gabe sounded entirely too jovial. "Sleep well? That memory foam remember you yet?"

Wait. "Morning? It's morning?" Last thing Cas remembered, it was late night. Morning was hours away yet.

"Yeah... that's when people usually get up around here, right?" He waved a hand around the hallway, and raised an eyebrow at Cas as if he should know better. "I'm new at this living-like-a-human thing, but that's the sense I get."

Cas sidestepped as subtly as possible, which wasn't very subtle in fuzzy bumblebee slippers with bobbly antennas and flappy little wings, to put some distance between himself and Dean's door. "Uh. Yes. Morning is for waking up. I'm just going to wake up some more first." Gabe was studying him like Cas was the next target for the Trickster now, and he couldn't help but feel pinned down by his gaze. "In the shower. Yes. Waking up with a good hot shower."

Gabe's confused stare finally resolved back into the good-natured grin he'd been seeing more and more on his brother, and Cas turned and fled down the hall.

Safely back in his room, Cas slumped in relief against his closed door. Somehow, hours had passed that he had no memory of. Glancing around his own room, he couldn't even find the clothes he'd worn the night before. Had he sleepwalked to Dean's room? And sleep-stripped? And sleep-tidied up his own room? He wasn't even sure sleep-tidying was possible. He needed to ask Sam. Hopefully Sam would know what was wrong with him.

He dug out a pair of jeans and a soft blue flannel shirt, and while he dressed he remembered once again that he wasn't the only one whose health was of concern. If it really was morning, it had to be nearly twelve hours since Dean's encounter with the heart. And here Cas was worried about his unusual but certainly not life-threatening problems. Well, not life-threatening anymore, since Dean didn't catch him in his bed.

He tied his shoes, checked that the flannel shirt was buttoned up enough to hide Dean's t-shirt he was still wearing underneath, and put as much mental distance between himself and the state he awakened in as he could.

His next stop was the library, where - as expected - he found Sam working on his computer. Cas pulled out the chair next to Sam's, and leaned a little into the other man's personal space. Humanity had given him a better understanding about how to do that without "weirding people out," as Dean called it. Just a little lean forward, not too far, but enough to signal he wished to engage in a private or personal discussion. He thought he "nailed it." As Dean also said.

"Hey Cas." Sam acknowledged him, finished what he was typing, then turned to him with a smile. "Dean's making waffles, but the coffee's brewed if you want some." Sam raised his own mug in a little salute and took a sip.

"Thank you," Cas replied, then checked to make sure they were alone and lowered his voice. "How is he this morning?"

Sam lowered his mug, eyebrows scrunched together in concern. "What do you mean? Did something happen after I went to bed last night?"

The way Sam phrased that sent a shiver of dread down Cas's spine. Did Sam suspect Cas's nocturnal wanderings? Did he see him sneak into Dean's room? Perhaps naked? Cas choked a little bit and flushed bright pink, then cleared his throat and stammered out, "Um, no. Everything was fine as far as I know." He stood rather too abruptly, he realized after the fact. "I think I will get some coffee now."

Sam's concern only deepened, and he put his own mug down and looked earnestly up at Cas. "Are you sure every thing's okay? You look a little spooked. Dean was fine a few minutes ago. I didn't mean to upset you."

Cas nodded and backed toward the nearest door. He was definitely not ready for this conversation. He thought he was, but he'd been wrong. "Yes, Sam. Thank you. I think I just need some coffee. Thanks." Then he turned and walked away as quickly as he could without looking like he was fleeing.

He wasn't sure if he was up to facing Dean yet. He couldn't even hold himself together in front of Sam. He needed someone to talk him down from the impending meltdown. Since she wasn't already set up for the day in the library, he assumed Charlie was still in her room. He hoped it wasn't too early to bother her, and knocked on her door.

"Come in, I'm decent."

Cas cracked the door open enough to peek inside. "Charlie, may I ask you something?" He decided to be a little more circumspect with Charlie after his direct approach failed so miserably with Sam.

Charlie had an armload of computer gear to carry out to the library, and started towards the door when Cas slipped inside and shut it behind him, bringing her up short. She took a step back, noticing how tense her friend seemed to be, and smiled welcomingly. "Ask me anything, Cas. You know you can."

"What do you know about sleepwalking?" He decided to be as indirectly direct as he could.

Charlie frowned. "Not much, really. Why? Are you sleepwalking? Is Dean sleepwalking?"

It was Cas's turn to frown. How would he know if Dean was sleepwalking? Unless Dean had been the one to wake up in his bed, he wouldn't know about it. That creeping icy feeling was crawling up his back again, like somehow he'd been found out. Charlie reached out with her free hand and patted his shoulder.

"Just tell me what's wrong, Cas."

"I think I might've... done some things. In my sleep. Last night."

Charlie's concern melted into a soft grin. "Do I want to know what those things are? Think carefully before you answer that." She winked.

Cas wasn't positive, but he was almost certain she was teasing him. He just didn't understand what she was teasing him about. He clearly couldn't talk to Charlie about this, either. He was running out of options. All he had left were Kevin, and Dean himself. Kevin would surely still be asleep, and he probably wasn't the best person to talk about sleep problems with anyway. And the thought of facing Dean... he couldn't do that yet. He mumbled his thanks for Charlie's time, and turned to leave, perhaps to retreat to his own room until he figured out the best course of action. Charlie's hand tightened on his shoulder and stopped him.

"I mean it, Cas. You really can ask me anything. Did something happen?"

He couldn't turn back and face her, but hung his head before muttering, "I don't even know anymore. It doesn't seem real now. It's probably best I pretend it never happened."

Two arms shot around his shoulders from behind, and Charlie all but leaped on him with a hug. "I'm sorry you're having trouble sleeping. I guess it's hard after you've been awake for eleventy-billion years. I can't even imagine it. So next time you're having trouble, if you don't want to bother Dean, I'll sit up with you and we can watch movies or something. We'll make popcorn and everything. Deal?"

Instantly, Cas felt pleasantly warm. Charlie hadn't solved any of his problems, but she'd made him feel a thousand times better anyway. He'd never said it to her, because he was saving it for the right moment, but he was convinced that Charlie's ability to improve his mood was what she would refer to as "her superpower." And that thought made him smile all the more.

"Yes, Charlie," he said, turning to hug her back. "You have a deal."

Cas left her and Sam in the library to work, and gathered all his courage to stroll into the kitchen. The most delicious aromas of coffee, bacon, and waffles tickled his nose as he made his way to the cupboard for a mug. Dean was focused on fishing the last few slices of bacon from the frying pan, and hadn't noticed him yet. He decided to be proactive.

"Good morning, Dean."

Dean tossed a happy glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to the bacon. "Hey Cas. Great timing. If you'd slept any later, you would've missed this masterpiece."

Cas poured coffee and subtly examined Dean as he turned off the stove and plated the last of the bacon. No one else had seemed concerned for him, but Cas wouldn't be satisfied that Dean hadn't suffered any ill effects from the heart until he could verify it with his own eyes.

"Thank you for cooking. It smells delicious. You must've spent a long time preparing this." There. Finally, Cas remembered how to be subtle. It was in the interest of ensuring Dean's good health, after all, and he'd sort of made that his unofficial life's mission.

"Nah. Waffles and bacon don't take long," Dean replied, shifting platters of food around the counter to make room for a stack of plates. "And I even cut up some melon and strawberries for Sammy."

"Well, I still appreciate your efforts. You seem to have a lot of energy this morning," Cas observed, as Dean brushed past him to retrieve butter, whipped cream, and syrup from the fridge.

Dean smirked and let out a short laugh as he put the finishing touches on his breakfast buffet, before stepping closer to Cas, speaking quietly now. "What, are you saying you're disappointed?" He took another step closer.

"D-disappointed? Why would I be disappointed that you're feeling well and obviously in excellent spirits?"

Dean took the last step, covering all the remaining distance between them, and leaned against him to whisper in his ear, "For the same reason I'm not disappointed you almost slept through breakfast, angel."

Cas could feel the heat of Dean's body through his clothes, felt his breath warm against his neck as he spoke and then laughed low and slow. He couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut as tight as he'd squeezed his fists down, just to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing on to Dean like a rabid koala. If Dean could see any of the thoughts racing through his head in that moment, he was sure he'd never speak to him again. In that battened-down state, ready to flee yet another room, he could never have foreseen what happened next.

Instead of pulling away, as Cas fully expected he would, Dean pressed himself into Cas and kissed his neck.

Kissed. His. Neck.

His eyes flew wide open, as Dean whispered another good morning into his ear. He had a very good view of a strange red mark just under Dean's collar, and his thoughts immediately returned to the little pink heart on that storage room floor. He reached up without thinking, only trying to get a better look at the mark. It might be serious. He should probably show Sam. Sam would surely know what the mark meant, if the injury was indeed a result of the heart.

Before he could say anything, or even get a closer look, Dean's own hand found its way to his collar. Dean was peeking beneath his flannel shirt.

"Stealing my clothes again, Cas?"

Instead of being upset, Dean seemed... pleased? Pleased enough to lean back against him, at least. This was all so very confusing!

His hand was frozen on Dean's shoulder, incapable of moving if he'd tried. Strangely enough, he didn't feel much like trying to do anything. Standing there absorbing Dean through his skin was suddenly the only thing on his agenda for the foreseeable future, and nothing short of another apocalypse was going to break him out of the spell he'd fallen under.

Adrenaline surged through his veins, and Cas awoke with a heaving breath, resurfacing from what was now obviously just a dream. It was an incredibly vivid dream, though, and left him gasping and grasping at the quilt beneath him for purchase, as if he could catch every last detail between his fingers. He surged unsteadily to his feet, his left leg tingly and rubbery-feeling from his calf hanging over the edge of his mattress for however long he’d been passed out.

He saw how the pieces fit together now. The heart, the enchantment it must’ve contained, his uncharacteristic fainting spell, the vivid-as-day dream that was as real to him awake as it had been all along. He understood they were entirely interconnected.

This time, he was a hundred percent sure he knew what broke the curse.

****  
  



	6. Sam - meangreenlimabean

Alone in his room, Sam fell back onto his mattress with a loud sigh. He tried to push away the nagging voice of worry about his brother. It might be nothing; but when had they ever been so lucky?  It was more likely that they would wake to find Dean had been turned into a pixie, or something equally disturbing. He briefly imagined his brother as a tiny winged creature in a pink fluffy gown. It would serve him right.

He chuckled to himself, trying to shake the image from his head. Gabe would get a kick out of pink pixie Dean. Maybe, if everything was fine in the morning, Sam might casually bring up the idea for a future prank. He could just imagine the way Gabe’s eyes would crinkle as they schemed and laughed together. Just thinking about Gabe’s smile did funny things to Sam’s stomach.

Sam pushed the thought away. He should get some reading in before bed, keep his mind off other things. He got up quickly, but a wave of dizziness nearly knocked him over. He closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. The whole room seemed to be tipping. Sam felt blindly for his bed and laid down. Once his head touched the pillow, he was out.

When he opened his eyes, he had no idea how long he’d been asleep. He listened for a moment; the bunker was quiet, so it was probably early. He felt good. That was unusual in itself, but he didn’t want to question it yet.

Stretching lazily, Sam scratched his stomach and yawned. Having some time to himself was rare. Maybe he would go for a jog. He might even take a short detour to that little candy shop on Ninth Street. They carried this handmade taffy that Gabriel just loved. It would be a nice surprise. Besides, nobody enjoyed a good dessert like Gabe. The sounds that angel made over a slice of rich chocolate cake were just obscene.

Sam let out a shaky breath. Weird things were happening beneath the covers. He shifted uncomfortably. _What is wrong with me?_ No way was he getting hard thinking about Gabe eating. Even if the guy did moan suggestively when he licked a fork clean. Sam twitched. Oh no. This was just wrong.

_Think about unsexy things_ , he reminded himself. _Dirty laundry. Gas station bathrooms. That mystery stain on the hallway carpet. Football. Janet Reno._ Nothing was helping. There was only one sure-fire way to put an end to this. He slid a hand inside his shorts. It could be worse. At least this was a problem Sam knew how to handle.

He settled into the pillows and shut his eyes. Usually Sam had no trouble pulling up the memory of a gorgeous woman to help things along, but at the moment, Gabe’s was the only face that came to mind. To Sam’s surprise, that didn’t slow him down. He vividly remembered slamming Gabriel against a wall on more than one occasion, and the smug way the angel would stare up at him. Sam’s hips bucked at the thought. “Gabe,” he whispered.

“Yes, sugar?” Gabe rolled over beside him.

Sam flailed. He scooted back against the headboard, cursing, yanking sheets this way and that. He glared angrily. “What are you doing here?”

Gabriel just raised an eyebrow. “Well, I was sleeping, but it looks like I almost missed the party.”

“Party? I wasn’t--”

“Come on now, let me help you with that.” Gabe crawled over Sam and slipped his hand under the sheets. Sam made a surprised sound in his throat when Gabe’s fingers took over. The angel grinned at the stunned expression on Sam’s face. “That’s it, papa bear.”

Sam thought he should be more bothered by this turn of events. He ought to shove Gabe away and flee the room. Instead, he took the man’s face in his hands and kissed him roughly. The feel of their unshaven faces rasping together was a shock to Sam’s senses. He briefly wondered how much experience Gabriel had gained over the past few centuries. Sam moaned into Gabe’s mouth as the angel’s strong hand worked him over. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

Gabe broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ve got you, Sammy,” he whispered. “I love you.” At those words, Sam came with a gasp, thrusting up into Gabe’s fist.

Opening his eyes, Sam was baffled to find himself standing outside. He turned completely around, frowning. When had he left the bunker? He had definitely thought about going for a run, and now here he was, on the side of the road in his sweats. Had the rest been a very vivid daydream, or was this some kind of trick? He glanced around, half-expecting to see Gabriel somewhere nearby with a knowing smirk.

Nothing seemed out of place. It all seemed legit. Maybe his memory was going patchy again. He began to jog down the road, puzzling over what might be screwing with him this time.

The fresh air soon cleared the worry from his mind. It had been too long since he’d gotten up early to exercise. They spent so much time rushing around and trying not to die, he’d let it slide. That was a shame. Getting his blood pumping always put him in a better frame of mind. He really enjoyed this. Sam decided he would make it a priority once again.

His mind wandered back to Gabe. It must have been a dream; Sam was fairly certain he hadn’t fallen asleep next to his friend last night. He recalled the feel of the angel’s mouth against his, and felt a pang of sadness that it had all been in his head. _So apparently I like Gabe_ , he admitted. When exactly had those feelings developed? He thought back to the first few times he met Gabe, before they even knew his real name, before they fought on the same side. How many times had the Trickster nearly gotten him killed? How many times _had_ Gabriel killed Dean, just to mess with Sam? Of course he had come around in the long run and helped them, so all those past grievances had just gotten swept under the rug.

Sam slowed to a halt, his shoes scraping on the sidewalk. _How petty_ , he scolded himself. Gabe was their friend now. He had risked his life for them, turned against his family for them. They had all made questionable decisions, and Gabe’s death toll was no worse than Cas, who they accepted unconditionally. Whether or not Gabe returned Sam’s feelings, the archangel was part of their screwed up little family now, and Sam needed to forgive him. Although that might be easier if he could know that Gabe was actually sorry.

Sam looked up. He’d been so deep in his thoughts, he hadn’t even realized where his feet had taken him. He was across the street from the candy shop. He laughed, his breath puffing out clouds in the cool morning air. Handmade taffy would make a good peace offering.

Back at the bunker, he stopped just inside the door. He had no idea what time it was, or if Gabe was even awake yet. Suddenly he worried if the whole idea was ridiculous. What exactly did he think would happen? Gabe would open his door and Sam would offer the bag of candy like some pathetic door-to-door salesman? If he brought up all that past stuff, would Gabe laugh at him for holding such a small-minded grudge?

Sam ran his fingers nervously through his hair, and forced himself to move. He headed down the stairs with a scowl.  This might be the worst idea he’d ever had. _Good morning, here’s some candy, I forgive you for all those times you killed my brother, let’s make out._ Sam gave a bitter sigh and walked right on past Gabe’s door without slowing.

He went to Dean’s room instead. Sam could give his brother the taffy, and forget he’d even considered that other plan. Then at least one of them would be happy.

Sam pushed open the door, then froze in his tracks. Dean was in bed, but not alone. Sam blinked in surprise, then backed up and quietly shut the door. He stood in the hallway, wide-eyed. Then he started to laugh. All the weirdness of the morning caught up to him, and he was giggling uncontrollably. He took a few steps away from his brother’s room, so as not to alert the busy couple inside, and leaned against the wall, wiping his eyes.

Gabe opened his own door and peeked out. “What’s so funny, peaches?” Even though he didn’t yet know the joke, his mouth curled up with amusement at Sam.

It took Sam a few tries to get out any intelligible words. He shook his head helplessly, waving a hand at Dean’s door. Once he wheezed out “Cas” it was enough for Gabe’s eyebrows to shoot upward.

“Together?” he demanded. Sam nodded. “Together - together?” Gabe clarified. Sam let out a childish giggle in reply. Gabe motioned Sam into his room.

Sam sat down on the bed, and Gabe stood facing him. “It’s about damn time,” he shook his head in amazement.

“I know!” Sam cackled even harder. He remembered the bag of taffy in his hand, and tossed it to Gabe. The absurdity of all of it was too much. His stomach muscles ached; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard. He flopped down backward onto Gabe’s bed. He heard the bag crinkle open, and grinned proudly at Gabe’s appreciative gasp.

“You sneaky boy,” Gabe teased. “Aww, here I was starting to think I wasn’t your favorite.” He unwrapped a piece and tossed it into his mouth. He hummed appreciatively, chewing slowly. “That is fucking fantastic,” Gabe muttered around the mouthful of taffy.

Something tightened in Sam’s gut. He pushed himself up to his elbows to watch.

“You want a taste?” Gabe smiled wantonly at Sam.

A little flustered, Sam sat up straighter. “No, it’s all yours.”

“I hope you don’t mean just the candy.” Gabe arched one eyebrow.

Sam’s throat went dry. Maybe his lame pickup line wouldn’t be so lame after all. Gabe stepped a little closer. With Sam seated on the bed, it was his turn to look up to the smaller man.

Gabe cocked his head to one side. “I’m not hearing a ‘no.’ Hang on, are you blushing?”

Sam swallowed hard, but couldn’t think of a witty retort.

Gabe moved closer still, his grin fading. “Are you feeling alright?” He pressed the backs of his fingers to Sam’s forehead.

“I’m fine,” he answered, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

Gabe narrowed his eyes. “Of course you are.” His voice was ripe with sarcasm. “Because a big, tough manly-man hunter like you would never go for another fella. Right?”

“No!” Sam answered too quickly, then struggled to explain himself. “I mean-- that’s not--” Sam finally gave up, with a frustrated sigh. “I might.”

Gabe slid a little closer, angled his head. “So if that’s not your holdup...” His eyes flickered over Sam’s face. “Is it me?”

Sam frowned. “What?”

Gabe raised his chin. “Because this is just a manifestation, remember? If you’d rather have a gorgeous babe...” he raised his hand, poised to snap his fingers.

“Hey!” Sam wrapped his hand over Gabe’s. “Don’t you dare.”

The angel forced a smile. “What then, a sexy stud? The Chippendale’s type?” He noticed Sam’s confused look and laughed it off.  “I chose this appearance because it was so completely average. Easier to go unnoticed. But sunshine, I can give you anything you dream up.”

Sam stood up and silenced him with a kiss. It was over too quickly, and Sam looked sternly into Gabe’s eyes. “I like this manifestation,” he insisted. Gabe just blinked in surprise. Then Sam grabbed him, turning them both around, and throwing Gabe onto the bed. He pinned the angel down, kissing him harder. Soon he moved down, trailing his mouth along Gabe’s jawline, down his neck. “Don’t change a thing,” he whispered.

Gabe reached up, but Sam caught him by the wrist, pinning his arm down against the mattress.  Gabe laughed. “Hey now. Just because I look little, doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.”

Sam smiled against Gabe’s collarbone. “I know.”

“I could take you down in heartbeat. I’m still half archangel, remember?”

“Yeah…” Sam hesitated, looked up at Gabe. “Can I ask... if angels can see each other’s true forms, what do we look like to you? Humans, I mean.”

“Well, I do see your physical bodies ...and I’ve seen ‘em all, but yours is quite the specimen. One of dad’s best works.” He put his hand on Sam’s chest and spread his fingers. His expression softened.  “But I can see inside, too.”

Sam’s face fell, and he looked away.

Gabriel pushed himself up, and grabbed Sam’s chin, pulling it toward him. “You are beautiful. Inside and out.”

Sam moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I know I’m a mess, Gabe. You mean well, but don’t lie to me. Alright?”

“Would you stop!” Gabe moved behind Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders. “I’m not lying. I mean, sure, you have some battle scars, we all do. It just shows how brave you are, how you never gave up. There is nothing wrong with you, Sam. Your soul is a work of art. If you don’t believe that, well, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

Sam’s breath hitched in his chest, somewhere between laughing and crying. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Anytime, honey bunch.” Gabe rose up to his knees, and began to massage Sam’s shoulders. “You’re so tight,” the angel smirked. “I’m gonna have fun loosening you up.” He chuckled at Sam’s reaction, and wrapped him up in a fierce hug. “I’m gonna take good care of you. Let me spoil you, Sammy. Anything your heart desires. What do you want?”

Sam leaned into Gabe’s embrace. “How about a dog,” he joked.

Gabe snapped his fingers and a beautiful Irish setter jumped up against Sam’s chest. Laughing, he scratched behind the dog’s ears, rubbing it’s furry face between his hands. He couldn’t stop grinning. The dog seemed to be grinning too; it’s tail thumped loudly against the bedside table. “He kinda looks like you,” Gabe teased. “Sam?”

Sam opened his eyes. The dog was gone. Gabe was gone. Sam was in his own bed. He sat up, frowning. Had he lost time again? He grabbed his phone and checked the time. Only seven hours had passed since Dean had gotten hit by the pink heart. Sam’s heart sank. He’d never left his room, never brought Gabe the taffy.  None of it had actually happened. Suddenly he felt weighted down with sorrow, his arms and legs heavy as cement. All he wanted was to pull the blankets over his head and return to the dream world.

The thumping sound came again. “Sam!”  Someone was pounding on his door.

****  
  



	7. Dean - WinJennster

Dean shut the door to his room and sighed. He leaned back against the solid wood for a moment, staring at the crap laying around his room. He’d always been so good about keeping his room clean, but lately - well, it was as cluttered as his thoughts.

He pulled his back off the door and walked over to the record player. A little Zep was the cure for anything, so he pulled out Zep II and dropped it on the turntable. Before he could switch it on, a wave of dizziness washed over him. The room felt oddly too small, claustrophobic. It occurred to him that maybe this was the damn heart thing. Maybe there was something wrong after all, but the dizziness was replaced by tiredness, and Dean found himself unable to process a thought beyond dropping into bed.

His memory foam was beckoning.

Walking towards the bed, he dropped articles of clothing along the way, and crawled under the covers in just his boxers and tee.

Which is why he was understandably confused when he blinked and found himself behind the wheel of his Baby, fully dressed, sunlight pouring in through the windows.

“Mmm. Best part of being human,” a gravelly voice intoned.

He turned to his right, just in time to see Cas take a bite of a huge cheeseburger.

“Cas?”

Cas nodded and swallowed. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”

“I just went to bed,” Dean told him, confusion growing.

“That’s unlikely. We’ve been on the road for almost three hours.”

“Where are we going?”

“Sioux Falls. Jody asked for some help with a missing teen. But you know that.” Cas stared at him, one dark eyebrow disappearing into his hairline. “Are you alright? I could drive for a while.”

“I’m fine - I just - I’m fine,” he said firmly, reaching for the bag on the seat next to him.

Which is when he saw _it_.

“What the hell?” Dean held up his left hand. A gold ring sparkled on his ring finger. Looking across at Cas, he caught a gleam of a silver - his mother’s wedding ring - on Cas’s left hand.

 

“Did you get something in it?” Cas asked, reaching over and taking Dean’s hand. He held his fingers up his face, inspecting the ring closely. “Looks fine to me,” he smiled, pulling Dean’s hand closer to his face.

He kissed Dean’s hand.

Dean’s brain did two things simultaneously; it shut down _and_ panicked. He found it oddly hard to breathe.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” he stammered.

He was wearing a ring. A wedding ring. Cas was wearing his mother’s wedding ring. This could only mean one thing, and it was something he didn’t think he could wrap his head around. But somehow, he had ended up married to the former angel.  

The _I can’t breathe_ feeling increased tenfold. Dean shoved the food bag off his lap and fumbled to get the Impala’s door open. He staggered out of the car and took off running.

“Dean?” he heard Cas’s panicked voice calling. “Dean! What’s wrong? Come back!”

He didn’t listen, just kept running aimlessly forward.

“Are you really this stupid? You’re not really this stupid.”

The scene around him rippled and changed, and he was back in the bunker. Sam was staring down at him, a cup of coffee in his hands.

“You’re telling me you’ve never thought about it - about _him_ \- that way? I call bullshit.” Sam’s expression was entirely too smug for Dean’s taste.

“Thought about what?” he stammered. “And how the fuck did I get back in the bunker?”

“Cas. I mean, jeez, the whole profound bond thing and I swear you two have gotten weirder since he fell. You especially. Like, you’ve always been overprotective of me, and now it’s carrying over to Cas. Why not just kiss him and make it official?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sam! I mean, what? I don’t - no.”

“You should see how red your face is.”

“I don’t like guys!”

“Bullshit. You were stupidly disappointed when it turned out that Aaron wasn’t actually interested in you. Your siren was a guy. Remember? Not to mention, you watch Dr. Sexy for Dr. Sexy and not Dr. Piccolo, and should I even bother mentioning your obsession with both Plant and Page?”

“What is this? Some weird gay intervention?”

“No. It’s a I-want-my-brother-to-be-happy-and-have-nice-things intervention.” Sam frowned, his brow furrowing. He set the coffee cup on the counter and put both of his oversized paws on Dean’s shoulders, fixing Dean with the most intense look he could muster. "You actually do deserve to be happy, you know?"

“I-I-”

Sam smiled. “It’s ok, I understand. You’re scared. But it’s Cas.”

Dean wrenched himself out of Sam’s grasp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Dean -”

He stomped out of the kitchen, hands over his ears, but the scene rippled again. Intense pain filled every ounce of his being. He would’ve hit his knees but he was there already.

 

Something was wrong with his left eye. He couldn’t open it. The whole left side of his face felt like it had been pummeled by a cement wall. It was hard to breathe. His arm hurt.

Cas was standing over him, holding Dean’s arm in his hand. His expression was cold, distant.

_Oh shit._

Dean remembered this. It was Lucifer’s crypt - the night they found the angel tablet. Cas was seconds away from killing him.

“Cas -” he groaned, his broken jaw protesting the movement. A wave of dizziness rushed over him, making black spots dance in his vision.

“Cas - this isn’t you -” he wheezed.

Cas ignored him, slamming his fist into Dean’s face again.

Dean remembered every moment of this. Remembered the blankness on Cas’s face, how he’d desperately tried to get through to him.

“Cas, we’re family.”

The words he’d said. The weight and the meaning.

“We need you.”

But it wasn’t that simple.

“I need you.”

Cas froze. He stared down at Dean, as if seeing him for the first time, and Dean finally said what he wanted to say the first time.

“I love you.”

The tablet slipped from Cas’s fingers, the outer casing shattering. A rumble rocked the crypt, and Cas came back to himself. The detachment and coldness were replaced by the warmth and caring Dean had come to expect from the angel.

“Oh, Dean,” he murmured. He gently cupped Dean’s ruined face in his hand, and Dean gasped as he felt the unreal feeling of bones instantaneously knitting back together.

Cas sunk to his knees. His other hand rose and cupped the other side of Dean’s face. “Oh, Dean,” he said again, “I’m so sorry. I am so very sorry.”

“Cas -”

“Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

Dean thought about it. He thought about the things he’d seen. He thought about waking up in the Impala and seeing wedding bands on his and Cas’s fingers. He thought about Sam’s speech in the bunker kitchen.

He thought about all of the little things - laughing with him as they left the brothel, watching Cas demolish a cheeseburger, pulling Cas’s wet trench from the water, not seeing that Cas was working with Crowley when everyone else could, the way he felt when “Emmanuel” stared up at him, the joy that cut through his crippling sorrow when Cas came back to him at Stull, the utter elation of finding Cas in Purgatory, all of those little moments and shared victories.

Dean was startled to realize that yes, he did mean it.

“Yeah, Cas. I do. I don’t know why it took me so long to see it.” Dean blinked, surprised by the warm wetness that slid down his cheeks.

Cas smiled. “I’ve felt joined to you from the first moment I touched your soul in Hell.”

“Really?” Dean sniffled.

“Really,” Cas confirmed. He ran his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip and pulled Dean’s face closer.

And then, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, kissed him.

Cas _kissed_ him.

It was a sweet, chaste thing, but it didn’t stop the warmth and joy from flooding Dean’s heart or the fireworks from exploding in his vision. Cas’s lips were soft, and he tasted like honey and clean rain.

When they separated, Cas was still smiling. “I love you, too,” he said softly, wiping a tear from Dean’s face.

Dean gasped and sat up in bed.

He could hear movement outside of his bedroom door, but he had no desire to get up and join the others.

That couldn’t have simply been a dream. True, he knew the events in the crypt hadn’t happened that way; but he did know he’d wanted to tell Cas he loved him. In fact, he wanted to tell Cas he loved him when he found him in Purgatory. Or when Cas came to him at Stull. Looking back over his life since the time Cas had yanked him out of Hell, Dean could see so many moments when he wished he’d have told Cas how he felt about him- how he’d never felt anything like what he felt for Cas.

“Shit. No time like the present!” Dean bounced out of bed, yanking clothes out of his dresser at random.

He was halfway out of his room before the fear grabbed him.

What if Cas didn’t feel the same way?

Dean staggered backwards, sitting down hard on the edge of his bed.

How _could_ Cas feel the same way? Not when Dean was broken, poison. Not when Dean saw himself as a waste of space.

_I’ve felt joined to you from the first moment I touched your soul in Hell._

__

Dean took a deep breath. Even if Cas didn’t feel the same, he had to take that chance.

Because the payoff if he did would more than make it worth the risk.

“You can do this, Winchester,” Dean pep talked himself, getting off the bed. “It’s Cas. You can do this.”

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

****  
  
  



	8. An Ending That's Actually a Beginning - WinJennster

“Sam! Sam Winchester, you open this door right now!” Gabe pounded his fist on Sam’s door. It opened, and a flushed and flustered Sam appeared on the other side. Gabe pushed his way in and the door slammed shut.

Dean stared blankly at the door, wondering if he’d missed something, but there was an unmistakable thud, like a body had just been shoved against the door.

Then Sam moaned. Loud and long.

“Holy shit,” Dean muttered. He no longer had any interest in finding out what Gabe’s deal was. He walked down the hallway, shaking his head. Apparently, his brother and the world’s most annoying archangel decided to wake up and get it on.

Whatever.

“I need a car!”

“Jesus!” Dean hollered, back slamming into a wall.

“I need a car,” Kevin said again, “and like yesterday!”

“For what?”

“Because that heart thing you broke. It made me dream something important and now I need to go see someone and dammit, Dean, there’s a whole garage full of cars!”

So he wasn’t the only one who’d had a strange dream. Huh.

“Well, uh, all the keys are on the pegboard. Don’t take my Baby or the Detroit Electric. Take the damn T-bird.”

“Which one is that?”

“The green one!”

“Ok!” Kevin turned towards the direction of the garage.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

The kid turned back, a big smile on his face. “I’m going to take a break from being the prophet. I’m going to chill out. I’m going to see Garth. Might be a while. A long while.”

“G-Garth? Like awkward, goofy, hug you to death Garth? Our Garth?”

Kevin grinned brilliantly. “We do a lot more than hug,” he smirked, disappearing down the hall and leaving Dean to stare blankly after him.

“So I take it the dreams were a universal thing in here last night?”

Dean turned to find Charlie behind him, fully dressed with a knapsack tossed over her shoulder. The key to Oz was in her hand.

His shoulders sagged. “You’re leaving too?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be back. I need to see her.”

“You love her.”

“I do. Just like you love Cas.”

Dean startled. “How did you know?”

Reaching up, Charlie cupped his cheek, and Dean leaned into the touch. “Sweetheart. We all know. We’ve all known for a long time. That thing you broke? I think it was meant to show us the deepest desires of our hearts. Maybe not a curse at all. More like - I dunno,” she shrugged. “More like a blessing.” She pulled his face closer and kissed his forehead. “I love you. Don’t screw this up. And I promise I’ll be back.”

She smiled one last time and disappeared down the hall in the same direction as Kevin.

Dean stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do next. He should probably find Cas; ask if the former angel had had any strange dreams the night before.

“Fuck, _Gabe_!” drifted down the hallway.

Dean grimaced. He didn’t want to hear his brother getting it on with the goddamn Trickster, that was for sure. Coffee. Coffee would work.

He meandered his way through the bunker, past the open storage room door. The shattered remnants of the heart were gone; in it’s place, one perfectly formed pink, jewel encrusted heart. Dean walked into the room with a sigh, grabbed the box it had come from and carefully scooped it into the box using the box lid. He wasn’t going to be dumb enough to touch it again, that was for damn certain.

Shoving the box back on the shelf, he left the room, walked down the hall and through the library, down the steps of the war room, hung a sharp right and entered the kitchen, staggering to a stop just inside.

Cas sat at the kitchen table, bent over a cup of coffee. He looked frustrated.

“Uh. You ok, Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas startled and some of the coffee splashed over the side of the cup and onto his hand. He hissed slightly.

“Did you burn yourself?” Dean asked, instantly concerned. He grabbed a wet rag out of the sink, crossing back to the table and pressing it against Cas’s hand as he sat down. “Let me see,” he ordered, holding Cas’s hand close to his face.

The skin didn’t seem to be damaged. It was a little red, but no blisters. Dean looked up into Cas’s face, and his breath caught in his lungs.

Cas’s cheeks were flushed, his blue eyes wide. He seemed somewhat startled, but his eyes were watching Dean, an expression on his face that made it seem like he was seeing him for the first time.

Dean cleared his throat.

“Uh, what did - what did you dream about?” Dean asked softly, still holding Cas’s hand.

“Um. Bacon. Breakfast. And uh - uh -,” Cas sighed. “Waking up in your bed. Wearing your clothes. What did you dream about?”

Dean bit his bottom lip. “Wedding rings. Saying things I should have said. I dreamt about you.”

“I dreamt about you as well.”

“Charlie said she thinks the heart was designed to show us our deepest desires. The uh, the desires of our heart.”

“I think she’s right.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Cas used their joined hands to pull Dean closer. “You and I, Dean. I think maybe it’s always been - since I touched your soul in hell -”

“I love you,” Dean blurted out, feeling his cheeks instantly flame red.

Cas smiled. “I love you, too. I think I have for quite some time.”

And then Cas was moving closer, sliding across the bench. He cupped Dean’s face in his hands, just like in the dream, pulled him closer -

Their lips met and Dean almost forgot how to breathe. All he was aware of was the taste of Cas, of his angel, kissing him like his life depended on it. When they separated, Dean was breathing hard. Cas pressed their foreheads together, both of his hands still holding Dean’s face.

“Today is Saint Valentine’s Day,” Cas told him softly, their lips still so close Dean could feel the little puffs of air produced by his words.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Dean said with a smile.

****  
  
  



End file.
